


Proving Yourself

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [24]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Injury, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, set in season eight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything, Sam's pretty sure he has some things to prove. Dean just wishes he would stop trying so hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic being cross-posted from Tumblr.  
> It's a rather simplistic view of some issues (it's short, so that's why), and probably set in season eight (definitely pre-Gadreel).   
> Warnings include: Sam's shitty self-esteem, and non-graphic injury.

            Sam steps in and neatly decapitates the last vampire in the nest, fingernails raking across his face and neck but no serious damage done, at least not by this one.

            Dean is panting behind him. “Fuck, Sammy,” he says. “Could’ve taken that, why the hell you jump in front of me?”

            Sam shrugs and cleans the blood off his machete, subtly looks himself over for injuries. It’s not too bad. He’s got a wicked scratch that tore through his t-shirt and the skin of his stomach, and some bruises, and his right shoulder is pulling kind of funny, but overall, it’s not bad.

            He looks over at Dean and studies him with a careful eye, notices no serious injuries, only a bruise here or there, winded from being tosses to the ground so hard.

            “Fuck, Sam, you look like shit,” Dean says. Sam shrugs again, because tonight was a choice between him coming out looking like shit or Dean taking another hit or two, and Sam knows he chose right. Sam has hurt Dean enough, it’s his turn to take some pain. And whatever he takes won’t be nearly enough.

            Dean comes over to look at Sam and winces at the scratches and cuts. “Damn, Sammy, let’s get you back to the motel, lemme take care of those.”

            So they set the old house on fire and drive away, back to the motel where Sam makes it inside without showing too much pain. Dean sits him down right away and cuts his shirt off, suturing the stomach wound and cleaning and bandaging the scratches. “Fuck, Sammy,” he says as he finishes on the last scratch. “The fuck do you do this? Jumping in the way, you’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?” Dean sounds worried, like he really believes Sam will die, and Sam resolves to be more careful, if for nothing else than the fact that Dean would be devastated were Sam to die.

            “I’ll be careful, Dean,” Sam promises. “Just don’t want to see you hurt.”

            Dean snorts. “See me hurt? Sammy, I don’t have a scratch on me, you’re the one who’s beat to hell. I wanna stop seeing  _you_  hurt.”

            Sam nods dutifully, but one of them is going to get hurt, and Sam is going to do his best to ensure that it isn’t Dean.

            Dean finishes patching him up and looks over his handiwork. “Good enough,” he says. “Now, if you could just not  _add_  anymore to this for a while, that’d be great.”

            “Let it go,” Sam says tiredly.

            Dean huffs in disbelief. “I’m not gonna let you divin’ in front of every supernatural thing go, Sammy. It’s scaring the shit out of me, okay?”

            Sam sighs. “She was gonna hurt you, Dean, probably a hell of a lot worse than this. Would you rather that?”

            Dean’s eyes narrow. “If it would mean you being okay, then yeah. And what’s your excuse about the one who got your stomach? I was perfectly fine to chop that one’s head off.”

            Sam’s stomach turns, because that was one mean son of a bitch, and Sam doesn’t want to imagine him getting close to Dean. “Was okay,” he says instead. “I can take it.”

            “Of course you  _can_  take it,” Dean says. “Doesn’t mean you should. Are we partners in this or what?”

            “Yeah,” Sam says, “but it’s not so bad if I get hurt.”

            Dean’s eyes narrow further. “And why the hell not? Why should you get hurt but not me?”

            Sam shrugs helplessly, because Dean should just _get_ this. “Well, I’ve hurt you a lot. You know. Ruby. Uh, Lucifer. The blood. Being soulless. There’s more, too. And I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

            “So, what, you get hurt instead?” Dean asks incredulously.

            Sam shrugs again. “Don’t you think I deserve it?” he asks rhetorically.

            “Fuck no,” Dean bites out. “Why the fuck do  _you_ think you deserve this?”

            “If I can…keep you safe, make it up to you, I guess…then maybe I might deserve you again some day. I mean, I know it’s never gonna happen. I’m never gonna be able to make up for what I’ve done. But I can keep trying.”

            “Fuck, Sammy,” Dean says helplessly before trailing off. He suddenly surges forward and kisses Sam hard, pushing Sam back onto the bed, mindful of his injuries.

            He pulls back after a few minutes, both of their lips kiss-swollen and red. “You are my fucking Sammy,” he says. “And you don’t have to earn me or whatever. I am yours. I love you.”

            “I’ve…done stuff,” Sam reminds him.

            “I’ve done shit too,” Dean says. “You want me to take some hits for you? Gonna forgive me if I do that?”

            “You don’t need to be forgiven,” Sam says, “You…you’re Dean, and I love you, and you’re so good, and you didn’t mean anything you did.”

            Dean smiles. “And you’re Sam,” he says. “And I love you, you idiot. And you always, always try to do good, and I love that about you too. And, yeah, shit went wrong, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. And I don’t want you to ever, ever think you’re not good enough again,” Dean finishes. “And I am going to prove it to you, I swear. And you are going to stop getting hurt and whatever other stupid things you’re doing. Okay?”

            Sam nods hesitantly.

            Dean kisses him again. “Gonna prove it to you,” he says again.

            And Sam almost believes him, thinks maybe he  _can_ believe him. Thinks that he’s going to spend the rest of his life proving to the world that he’s good enough, that he’s not the monster-freak he’s shown himself as, but it will all be okay. Because Dean believes in him, and loves him, and he says he doesn’t need Sam to prove anything. 

 


End file.
